


A Helping Hand

by Slipper



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-17
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-06-09 02:36:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6885649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slipper/pseuds/Slipper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oliver is sick but Felicity and Digg have got it covered. Loosely set during Season One.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Helping Hand

“How’s Digg doing?” Oliver croaked.

“Good. He’s got the dealer in sight and he’s following him to the drop-off point.” Felicity swiveled her chair away from her desk and computer screens. “You’re supposed to be sleeping.”

“I cad’t sleeb,” he said and lowered himself carefully into the empty chair next to Felicity’s. She frowned and he added defensively, “I tried but I cad’t breathe.”

“You still won’t take anything?”

Oliver shook his head. “If Digg deeds be thed I-” He broke off to sneeze into a crumpled tissue. He coughed and wiped his pink nose in the tissue, the sneezing not having done anything to ease the congestion.

Felicity thought that was proof enough that Digg would be more likely to call Moira Queen for help tonight than bother her and Oliver but decided it might be wiser not to say so. Instead she pulled a small blue pot from her purse and said, “I picked this up earlier, I thought it might help.”

Oliver raised an eyebrow.

“Vicks,” she said, “It’ll help you breathe.”

“I know what it is,” he snapped.

Felicity bit down on the smile that threatened and examined him. He looked miserable. There were tight lines around his eyes and he kept squinting as though he had a headache. His freckles were hidden under the flush of a fever and he kept rubbing a hand across his chest as though it were bothering him. He hadn’t looked so miserable when he’d been shot. God, she hoped this wasn’t anything more than a bad cold. She and Digg would probably have to tranq him to get him in front of a doctor. Well, Digg would have to stick a tranq dart in him; she’d have to be bait. And Felicity really didn’t want to be bait.

“Take your top off,” she said, rising from her chair. He coughed in surprise.

“I’m not looking for the chance to admire you topless. I mean, not that it isn’t nice but-”

“Felicity.”

“Yes, uh, okay, anyway no matter how flexible you are-” Oliver coughed again and she cringed as her brain caught up with her mouth before continuing, “Not that I think about how flexible you are but you know, you do work out here a lot and-”

“ _Felicity_.”

“Right, um, I don’t think you can reach all of your back, so if you take your shirt off I’ll help. Okay?” 

The words tumbled out so fast that it was a wonder he understood them but he just sighed and rose from his chair before removing his tee-shirt. Felicity unscrewed the pot and handed it to Oliver, taking a small amount to work across his back. She’d seen him shirtless many times and had been close to him before but this was different. She worked the Vicks across his back, fingers treading lightly over still vivid pink raised ridges and tight white pockets of scarred skin. He didn’t talk about it and she knew better than to ask. She made a final sweep across his back and he sighed as she drew her hand away. She’d expected him to put the Vicks on his chest himself but he remained motionless after she’d finished. She tapped him on the shoulder, “Oliver?”

He turned to face her, blinking drowsily and offered out the small jar of Vicks again.

“Oh, okay. I’ll just, uh, carry on then, um…” she trailed off, grateful that Oliver had shut his eyes again and couldn’t see her blushing so hard her cheeks must have matched her pink lipstick.

She took a small amount of the ointment from the jar and started working it carefully across his chest. The scarring on his right felt tight beneath her fingertips and she couldn’t help but wonder at what might have happened to him on the island to cause it. As if detecting the path of her thoughts Oliver shifted and guiltily she swept her hand further across his chest, until she had worked the heavy scented balm across to the tattoo on the other side of his body.

“Hey, I’m just going to put a little of this on your throat okay?” She’d noticed him grimacing a little each time he spoke and how he frowned each time he cleared his throat or coughed. He nodded and she traced her fingers along the column of his throat with the lightest touch she could manage.

As she drew her fingers away from the hollow of his throat she looked up and found Oliver staring at her, an unreadable expression on his face.

Her face grew warm again as she started to blush under the intensity of his gaze. “I… I should go wash up,” she said and waggled her fingers at him, earning her a smirk as Oliver pulled his tee-shirt back on.

As she washed her hands she could hear Oliver coughing from the other room. There was a pause and then two sneezes with barely a breath in between and then another bout of coughing. 

It was a vain hope that she might still persuade him to go home so she set about making two cups of tea before he could protest that he didn’t want, or need, it and returned, setting the hot mug down carefully in front of him.

He nodded. “Thah-” He broke off hastily to sneeze again.

“Bless you!”

He blew his nose and moaned.

“Has it helped?” she asked, eyeing the pot sat on the corner of her desk.

“Define help.”

“You sound better.”

Digg’s voice cut through on the comms. “Drop-off’s been made and picked up. You want me to intercept?”

Oliver cleared his throat. “Did you get the tracker on it?”

“It’s already working.” Felicity pointed to the red dot moving across her map of Starling City on the computer screen in front of them.

“No, we’ve got a trace. We’ll see where he takes it from here and follow up tomorrow. Good work Digg.”

“Thanks. How are you feeling?”

Oliver scowled. He seemed to take every inquiry about his health as an insult. “Fine.”

There was a moment’s silence and Felicity added, “He does seem better.”

“Good,” said Digg. “Want me to bring back food?”

“Yes,” said Felicity at the same time that Oliver said, “No.”

“Big Belly for you and me, soup for Mr Queen?”

Felicity laughed. “Yes!”

“You both work for me you know.”

“And we are grateful for that, sir,” Digg replied.

Oliver sneezed again.

“Bless you!” Digg and Felicity offered in chorus.

“Get some rest man,” Digg added before signing off.

Felicity swiveled in her chair to face Oliver. “I might go and lie down for a few minutes. Just until Digg gets back with the food,” he said, picking up the mug of tea.

She nodded. “Sure, I’ve got some stuff to finish up here.” It was a lie that he seemed happy to buy and she noted with some satisfaction that although he was still moving stiffly and they’d need to keep an eye on him for another day or two he wasn’t rubbing his chest in the same way and the pinched look on his face had gone.

She turned back to her screens and double checked the tracker, watching the dot make its way across the city.

“Hey Felicity,” Oliver said from halfway across the room, his voice so low that she almost didn’t catch it, “Thanks… for tonight.” His face had that same unreadable expression as before.

“You’re welcome. I’ll wake you when Digg gets back.”

He turned away, coughing and carried on making his way to the small cot in the corner.

Felicity swiveled back to the screen, tapped away and pulled up the GPS in Digg’s comms, watching his progress on the screen next to the other tracker. He’d be another half hour yet. She settled back in her chair and pulled a book from her bag. She couldn’t have pictured spending her nights like this a year ago; sitting in an underground base helping her cute billionaire boss and his bodyguard fight crime and working as their resident illegal hacker and tech mistress, but, she thought as she opened the book to the right page, she wouldn’t change it for the world.


End file.
